The nice thing about this hospital, he supposed, was the face that it had a nice courtyard somewhere in the middle of all the concrete structures. Neat, trimmed, and above all green lawns; white benches scattered around the place, and a sort of small, gazebo thing in the middle.

Very pretty.

However, while it was nice to relax in the area when the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and the bunnies were hopping about and spouting rainbows; it was another matter entirely when it was raining.

For one, the area took on this sort of depressed grey colour that would have certainly slit it's wrists if it could. The ground got soggy and waterlogged so you would risk being sucked in if you stood on it, the benches warped slightly, and the path became as slippery as all hell.

The only real refuge you could find if you were in the courtyard at times like that, was the small gazebo.

This is where Sadiq found himself. Standing under the small, white shelter, and grinning madly at all the people fleeing for cover. (Especially when one of his fellow doctosrs managed to lose his shoe to the grass. It was slowly sinking into the earth as he watched.)

He was, by all accounts, not to bothered by the rain. He had a file of reports and a small pouch of Damla acting as a paperweight. And being late for his checkup on that old guy in 406? Not his fault. The rain prevented him! What was he supposed to do?

Not to say he intentionally came out here at the first signs of dark clouds or anything.

Settling down on the bench, he popped a candy into his mouth and watched the rest of the shoe slide into the grass with a depressed 'gloop'-ing sound, then vanish entirely.

Ivan peered out. Well, well. It appeared to be raining. That was surprising. After all, wasn't America supposed to be some glammed up, always-sunny-and-warm country? That's what he'd heard in Russia at least, where they dreamed for that weather, rather than their freezing cold snow. The rain pounded against the windows noisily, and Ivan laughed sadistically at the people who were getting drenched in it. Rain... He wasn't allowed to go out in rain. He would apparently get even worse and prolong his stay at the hospital. Like Ivan cared.

Rubbing his forever-throbbing head in slight annoyance, he opened the door and was met with a blustering wind which swept his scarf up. Ivan wasn't worried, as it was quite secure around his neck. He would not lose it. Instead of retreating, he chose to roll out into the dreary weather. He wasn't supposed to get his cast wet, he'd be in so much trouble... Ivan couldn't wait! He giggled, high pitched, and continued, rolling down the small cobbled path, until-- Ah. This is where it stopped? This was as far as people were limited to go? That was unfair. There was a small shelter type structure a good few metres out. People were apparently expected to walk across the grass to get there. Hmph, these people had no idea what it was like for those restricted to wheelchairs.

A man sat in the shelter. Ivan wanted to meet him, and that meant rolling across the soaking, muddy grass. Well, good luck to him. He turned the wheels, getting the first bumpy start as he changed surfaces.

The effect was immediate. His wheels began to sink slightly, making a horrible sound as they sunk lower. Not too much of a challenge for him, though. He used his superior strength in his arm muscles to persist along the grass, huffing and panting witht he effort. He'll get there in no time at this rate. Just don't stop. Yes, never stop. Otherwise, he'd sink far too low down and not be able to get out.

But after gruelling along the bumpy way, he was right behind the man he'd seen earlier. Somehow, he doubted that the man had heard him over the raindrops echoing around the shelter on impact. So it was time to make himself known!

"...Privyet, miniscule one." This man seemed like the kind of guy who was proud of his muscles. Ivan liked taking that way from people, so he threatened the man's masculinity. Dragging his way into the shelter, he inspected his damp cast while waiting for a reply.

He was so busy with listening to the rain and watching the last few spots of sky vanish, he failed to notice the squelching sound of wheels on grass. He also failed to hear the sounds of water dripping onto the mostly dry floor of the gazebo. And, due to his lack of personal space, he failed to notice the presence of another behind him.

Well, until the other spoke anyway. Then his happy mood dissipated as prickles of irritation rose.

Now, if there was one thing about growing up in Turkey, it was that (despite the strangeness of it all), there were a lot of Russians floating about the place. Signs were often posted in Turkish, Arabic and Russian than English, Greek or French. Studying in Russia hadn't done anything to restrict his understanding of the language either - one had to get used to it after all. He almost failed entirely in his second year, when his first major paper was written entirely in Arabic instead of Russian.

"пополудни" He said mildly, turning around to give a piece of mind to whoever it was that called him 'little'. Well, until he realised he was facing a slightly damp man in a wheelchair.

Great. I can't deck him now, can I?

"сою- I mean.." He started again, switching to English for simplicity, "What the hell're you doing out here?" He said, eyebrow raised and a slightly disbelieving tint in his voice. "And what the hell, you're all wet! Knowing them, I'm gonna get blamed for this." He added, irritation shining through as he walked around the wheelchair to push the man further into the shelter and away from the rain.

"What am I doing here?" ...What was he doing here? Oh. That one was easy. "For the sole purpose of annoying you!" He giggled, a high-pitched sound which seemed almost demented coming from him. "And what am I doing all wet? Well. You looked stupid, but I didn't think you were that dumb. Obviously, I am wet because it is raining. Water. You know... Wet stuff." A grin crept onto his face. Oh, he did love insulting people. That made, what, four people now? In how many days? Oh, he was on a role!

Oh, and not to forget manners... He muttered a small "Spasibo" for the man's courtesy to roll him under the shelter. "You know, you're probably right. You're going to get blamed for this. What can I say? You were there, and I was in need." A larger grin rose, "Sounds rather a lot like we did something a lot worse together, if you get my drift..."

That'd be great to see. The doctors reacting to that. Oh! But what if Matvey found out? Then he would be sad... Or angry. The last thing he wanted was to make his Matvey angry. Perhaps a better play on words...

...Later, when his head wasn't hurting so much. So he instead waited for the other man to respond... Did the wheelchair have the break on? He hoped so... Oh, very much, he did hope so... Didn't want to get pushed into the mud... Or blown away by strong winds and land in Oz. Aha! But his mind was getting off track again. Best to just stare at the man to keep the right train of thought going. So that's what he did. Stare hard at the man.

Without blinking.

(( GOD THIS IS SO LATE, WHAT A MONTH OR SOMETHING?! ;; I'm sorry, I've been finding it difficult to write lately. Anyway, don't make my efforts meaningless and miss the activity check! ))